1 The very minute bids thee ope thine ear.
2 I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o'er ears for my labor.
3 O, 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear, To make an earthquake.'
4 You cram these words into mine ears against The stomach of my sense.
5 I long To hear the story of your life, which must Take the ear strangely.
6 Then I beat my tabor, At which, like unbacked colts, they pricked their ears, Advanced their eyelids, lifted up their noses As they smelt music.
7 So I charmed their ears That, calf-like, they my lowing followed through Toothed briers, sharp furzes, pricking gorse, and thorns, Which entered their frail shins.
8 Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears, and sometimes voices That, if I then had waked after long sleep, Will make me sleep again; and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open, and show riches Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked I cried to dream again.